


maybe i just wanna be yours

by weareonceinalifetime



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Liam, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, aka my fucking lifeblood, extremely specific and demanding bottom liam, i can't believe i wrote pwp that's not my style at all, i guess there's a tiny romantic subplot?, i guess?, the others vaguely make an appearance but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weareonceinalifetime/pseuds/weareonceinalifetime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing about Liam is Zayn’s type, but he’s attracted to him anyway. More and more often lately, he finds himself drifting off thinking about the way those muscles would move under his hands, the way that scruff would feel against the insides of his thighs, the way Liam would moan into his mouth when he dug his nails into the smooth skin of his back.</p><p>So when his hand finds its way onto his cock, it’s no surprise that he’s thinking of Liam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe i just wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote a thing, because apparently i'm just ill enough to think that writing smut in broad daylight is a good idea.
> 
> for hayley and ginger, who encouraged me all the way, assured me that i wasn't nearly as rusty as i thought, and helped me choose a title. it's been a wild ride, ladies <3
> 
> title is from "i wanna be yours" by the arctic monkeys, which i would definitely recommend as listening music for the fic.

Zayn doesn’t mean for it to happen, he really doesn’t. Liam is attractive, definitely, but nothing about him is really Zayn’s type—he’s too _nice_ , too clean-cut, with his broad shoulders and strong jawline and Captain America haircut. He’s apple pie and football and summer days at the beach, when what Zayn’s always been drawn to is vodka and cigarettes and rainy nights. Nothing about Liam should do anything for him beyond simple aesthetic appreciation, and yet he can’t get the guy out of his head.

They’re not the most compatible roommates, not even close. Liam is an early riser and Zayn is a night owl. Zayn prefers to listen to music while he works, preferably rap, while Liam needs absolute silence. Neither of them is particularly neat, but they’re messy in different ways. Nothing about them gels, really, except that they get along so well that Zayn can’t imagine life without Liam as his roommate, even though they’ve only known each other for six weeks.

The night it happens, Zayn thinks he’s alone. He _should_ be alone, because Liam is staying over at Niall’s so they can go surfing early the next morning, and Louis and Harry are visiting Harry’s mom and sister for the weekend, and the girls are having a girls’ night—they’d invited Zayn, last minute, but as much as he loved them, he wasn’t keen on watching _Mean Girls_ with them while they drank cheap wine and painted their nails. Besides, it was their girls time, and it would have been rude to crash it, even invited.

Instead he stays in, has a few beers, smokes half a pack of cigarettes in the apartment because Liam isn’t there to tell him not to, and doodles absentmindedly before realizing that his drawing is starting to look an awful lot like Liam and, okay, he has to face up to this sooner or later.

Nothing about Liam is Zayn’s type, but he’s attracted to him anyway. More and more often lately, he finds himself drifting off thinking about the way those muscles would move under his hands, the way that scruff would feel against the insides of his thighs, the way Liam would moan into his mouth when he dug his nails into the smooth skin of his back.

So when his hand finds its way onto his cock, it’s no surprise that he’s thinking of Liam, imagining it’s Liam’s big hand wrapped around him, Liam’s lips against his neck, whispering _tell me what you like, Zayn, gonna make it so good for you_.

And when he comes, spilling over his own hand and onto his sweatpants, it’s no surprise that Liam’s name is the one that falls from his lips.

It is, however, a surprise when he opens his eyes, his body limp and spent, to find Liam standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

“Uh . . . hi,” Liam says, his gaze straying down to Zayn’s hand, still resting on his cock, before flying back up to his face. He’s turned bright red, and he reaches up to run a hand through his hair, biting his lip. “I just came back to get my phone charger. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Zayn winces, praying that Liam hadn’t heard his own name coming out of Zayn’s mouth. “It’s cool. I should go shower.”

“Right.” Liam nods, and then he snatches up his phone charger and darts out of the room, leaving Zayn still on his bed in his come-covered sweatpants, wondering how awkward he’s just made things.

 

It’s been almost two weeks since what Louis has taken to referring to as “The Incident,” and Liam still hasn’t said anything. He’s been quieter than usual, actually, and while Zayn had sort of figured it would happen, it’s still a shock, because Liam hasn’t been this quiet since the first week of living together, when he’d been convinced that Zayn hated him until Zayn explained that he was actually just shy himself. After that, Liam had come alive, turned into the ball of sunshine and positivity that Zayn is used to. He misses talkative Liam.

So he’s two months into junior year of college, and he’s already managed to alienate his roommate by jerking off while thinking about him. Awesome.

Big parties aren’t his thing, but Zayn does quite like kickbacks, and normally he’d be excited about the one Jesy and Leigh-Anne are throwing at their place, only he’s supposed to have read all of _Jekyll and Hyde_ for his Brit Lit course by tomorrow, and he hasn’t even cracked it open, and really, who throws any kind of party on a Thursday night anyway? ( _People who were smart enough to schedule themselves so they don’t have class on Fridays, Zayn, that’s who,_ says a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Louis.) He _should_ be in the living room with the others, sipping a beer and sharing a joint with Niall and debating with Perrie over whether or not he should let her put another colored streak in his hair (she’s pushing for teal this time, which actually sounds kind of sick).

Instead, he’s holed up in the bedroom, a mug of black coffee that Leigh-Anne had brewed for him next to him on Jesy’s nightstand, a pen tucked behind his ear as he thumbs frantically through the novella, searching for “pertinent quotes for tomorrow’s discussion.”

He’s so focused on the book that he doesn’t notice the door opening until Liam has already slipped inside and closed it behind him, and _oh_ , this feels a bit like _déjà vu_ and not really in a good way. At least this time he’s got his nose in a book rather than his hand on his cock.

“Hey,” Zayn says, lifting his chin at Liam and then going back to his book. He’s not trying to be rude, he’s really not, but he’s working on a time limit here and he’d like to be able to get _some_ sleep tonight.

That’s all the encouragement Liam needs, apparently, because he crosses the room to Zayn and hops onto Jesy’s bed next to him, scooting in close and tucking his chin onto Zayn’s shoulder. It’s a physical proximity they haven’t shared in weeks, and Zayn finds himself curling into the warmth of the other boy’s body.

“What’cha reading?” Liam asks, his breath tickling the shell of Zayn’s ear and stirring his hair a little. Something electric dances down his spine, makes his stomach jump, and he wills himself to focus. _Jekyll and Hyde_ is not sexy, he reminds himself. _Jekyll and Hyde_ is decidedly unsexy.

“School,” he replies, turning the page. He’s still reading, but he’s not retaining any of it, and Liam’s hand is creeping onto his thigh, his touch so gentle and light Zayn would think he was making it up if it wasn’t for the fact that he can see it, see Liam’s big hand right there, inching closer and closer to his crotch.

Zayn keeps reading.

“Zayn,” Liam whispers, his mouth so close to Zayn’s ear that he can feel his lips moving, can hear the slip of Liam’s tongue against them.

And then Liam ducks his head into the crook of Zayn’s neck, his mouth hot and wet against the sensitive skin there, his stubble scratching lightly.

Zayn scoots away and turns to Liam, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

Instead of saying anything, Liam kisses him. There’s nothing graceful about it-he has to lunge forward a little to get his lips on Zayn’s, and their teeth sort of knock together and then there’s a bit of awkwardness as they try to figure out whose mouth goes where, and Zayn’s elbow kind of hurts because he’d hit it on Jesy’s nightstand when he’d scrambled away the first time, but then Zayn sucks Liam’s full bottom lip into his mouth and bites down and Liam lets out a long, low groan and tugs Zayn back towards him.

From there it’s easy, almost too easy, because nothing about them seems like it should fit and yet they do. Zayn places his hands on Liam’s broad shoulders and shoves him backwards onto the bed, nips his way along his jaw and down his neck to his collarbones, sucks mark after mark into his tanned skin and soothes each one with his tongue. He takes particular care over the birthmark, works and works at it until there’s a violently purple bruise blooming atop it and Liam is practically keening, his muscular thighs wrapped around Zayn’s waist, one hand tangled in his hair.

“Off,” Liam mumbles, his chest heaving. “Too many clothes, Zayn.”

Zayn laughs at that, pressing one last kiss to the birthmark before sliding his hands under the hem of Liam’s black t-shirt, rucking it up and up to reveal his sculpted body. He’s breathtaking, really, all golden abs and smooth skin and a trail of dark hair leading into his waistband. Zayn can’t resist, so he leans in and licks a stripe up Liam’s torso.

“ _Shit_ ,” Liam whimpers. He lifts his arms obligingly, allowing Zayn to help him out of his shirt, and then he wraps his arms around Zayn again, rocking his hips. “C’mon, Zayn,” he whines, his normally deep voice going high with want.

“’M getting to it,” Zayn assures him, tossing the t-shirt to the floor and dipping back in for another kiss. Liam’s lips are slick with saliva and swollen from the way Zayn’s been working at them with his teeth and tongue, and he moans greedily into the kiss, tugging eagerly at Zayn’s hair.

“Want you inside me,” Liam mumbles between kisses, and Zayn freezes.

Liam pulls away, worrying his full bottom lip with his teeth, looking suddenly worried. “Is that not …?”

“No,” Zayn says quickly, reaching out to smooth a hand over Liam’s mussed hair. “No, it is. I just . . . kind of don’t want to ask Jesy if she has lube we can borrow.”

“Right.” Liam giggles, his whole face scrunching up adorably, and it’s an actual physical effort for Zayn not to wrinkle his nose fondly in response, because Liam turns him into a giant dork, apparently. “Back to our place, maybe?”

“ _Definitely_ ,” Zayn growls, pressing one last, bruising kiss to Liam’s lips before rolling off of him and searching the room for his book, willing his hard-on to calm down just a little bit. He doesn’t give a fuck if his friends can tell what they’re doing, but he’d rather not get arrested for walking through the university-owned apartment complex with the world’s most obvious boner. He finds the book, finally, halfway under a desk and looking as though it had been kicked around a bit, which—yeah, if he remembers correctly, he _did_ kick it out of the way in the process of getting Liam on his back.

He stuffs _Jekyll and Hyde_ into his backpack and turns around to see Liam with his shirt halfway over his head.

“What are you doing?”

Liam blinks. “Uh, putting my shirt back on?”

“Leave it,” Zayn tells him, and before he can stop himself he’s moving closer again, trailing a teasing hand lightly over Liam’s abdomen.

“Yeah.” Liam clears his throat. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Zayn’s expecting the teasing whoops and whistles their friends start the minute they walk out of the bedroom, and he doesn’t even bother to stop walking, just reaches for Liam’s hand and tugs him along, squeezing a little just because he can. “We’re heading home,” he tosses over his shoulder, ignoring Niall’s wolf whistle in response and Perrie’s shout to, “Be safe, boys!” He’s already closing the apartment door behind them when he hears a shriek that can only mean Jesy’s just seen the disheveled state of her bed.

 _Whoops_.

 

Liam is back on Zayn the moment they’re through the door of their apartment, crowding him up against the door and licking eagerly into his mouth. Zayn laughs into the kiss—he can’t help it, because Liam is so strong and so sweet all at once, and nothing about this is what he expected, but it’s better. “You’re cute,” he tells Liam sincerely, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s neck as Liam ducks his head to pepper kisses along his collarbones.

“Yeah,” Liam whispers, kissing his way back up Zayn’s neck, his tongue tracing around the shell of his ear again. Zayn hadn’t realized his ears were quite this sensitive. “Think I’d be even cuter with my mouth around your cock?”

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn gasps, and before he even realizes exactly what he’s doing he’s shoving Liam backwards and picking him up, tossing him over his shoulder fireman’s-style and heading for the bedroom. Liam is all muscle, but he’s not so heavy that Zayn can’t manhandle him with a bit of effort, and it’s not like he’s putting up a fight—if anything, he seems to love it.

He heaves Liam onto his bed and tumbles after him, catching his body so that he’s slotted against Liam in just the right way to feel his erection against his thigh. “You shouldn’t just say things like that unless you’re prepared to follow through,” he says, grinding his hips down against Liam’s.

Liam gasps, his hands finding Zayn’s hips and pulling him tighter against him. The fabric of his jeans is providing the tiniest amount of friction against his dick, enough to make him desperate for more, desperate for Liam. “Who said I wasn’t?” he asks.

Zayn reaches for his own shirt and pulls it off, grinning at the way Liam’s eyes go wide and his tongue flicks over his bottom lip. He might not have Liam’s sculpted physique, but he knows there’s something appealing about his own thin frame, about the dark ink that’s littered over his torso. Sure enough, Liam goes straight for the lips on his chest, tracing the outline with his tongue. Then, quickly, he flips Zayn onto his back with a grin and starts working his way down, kissing and biting and sucking, pressing his lips to the heart on his hip. “Want you so bad, Zayn.”

Zayn props himself up with his elbows, watching with a smirk as Liam swirls his tongue in circles over his hip, biting down sharply and looking up through his lashes. He looks wrecked, pleading, even, and Zayn keeps his voice light and teasing, his tone even when he asks, “How do you want me, Liam? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to blow me?” He’s not calm, not even a little bit, but it’s worth the effort of keeping his voice steady when he sees Liam gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Both,” he grits out. “Want both.”

“Gotta choose one,” Zayn teases, running his thumb over Liam’s bottom lip. Liam mouths at it, sucking a little, and _shit_ , Zayn can’t stop the moan that rolls out of his mouth.

"Suck you,” Liam decides, grinning shyly up at Zayn. “That okay?”

Zayn rolls his eyes fondly. “ _Obviously_.”

Part of him still can’t believe this is happening, struggles to believe it even as Liam presses another kiss to his hip and then thumbs at the button on his jeans, tugs the zipper down, helps him out of the pants eagerly and mouths at the hard outline of his cock through the cotton of his boxer-briefs. It seems impossible that the same Liam who had greeted him with a firm handshake and a warm smile on move-in day is biting at the insides of his thighs, his stubble tickling, one hand coming up to twine his fingers with Zayn’s. He’s fantasized about it plenty of times, but not like this, never like this, because nothing he could have imagined would have been nearly as good as the way Liam pulls his boxer-briefs down and his eyes go wide at the sight of Zayn’s cock, so hard it’s nearly painful and leaking pre-come.

Liam swipes his tongue over Zayn’s slit lightly, and Zayn has to will his hips not to buck at the contact. Slowly, so slowly Zayn almost tells him to hurry up, Liam leans in again, looking up at Zayn with what seems like a smile in his eyes as he wraps his full pink lips around the tip of his cock. His tongue swirls against the head, and Zayn can’t help it, he’s groaning Liam’s name and squeezing the hand that holds his so tightly he’s probably cutting off circulation to Liam’s fingers, but Liam squeezes back, takes Zayn deeper, his mouth hot and wet around him. The outline of his dick against Liam’s cheek is obscene, Zayn thinks, and even as he wants to throw his head back and close his eyes and just _feel_ , he can’t take his eyes off Liam.

Liam hollows his cheeks, sucking obscenely, his lips shiny with saliva and pre-come, and Zayn swears, fisting his free hand in Liam’s hair, his hips bucking into Liam’s mouth just a little, and God, the friction feels so good, feels like every fantasy he’s ever had about Liam and then some.

He pulls off with a slurp, grinning up at Zayn. “You can fuck my mouth if you want.”

“If I want?” Zayn nearly croaks, tugging sharply at Liam’s hair. “I told you, don’t just say shit like that.”

The other boy smirks, nuzzling his face into Zayn’s hip gently. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Zayn.”

And then he’s licking a thick strip up the underside of Zayn’s cock and taking him into his mouth almost all the way in one smooth swallow, his eyes tearing up but his expression unmistakably enthusiastic. Zayn nearly chokes, gripping tightly at Liam’s hair. Hesitantly, he shifts back a little, sliding out of Liam’s mouth a little bit, and then slowly thrusts back in. Liam makes a strangled noise and squeezes Zayn’s hand, and Zayn picks up the pace in response, the tip of his dick hitting the back of Liam’s throat. He only has to glide in and out a few more times, transfixed by the sight of Liam’s full, wet pink lips around him, before he’s pulling out, muttering, “Gonna come.”

Liam wraps a hand around him, stroking quickly, and a few seconds later Zayn comes, spilling over Liam’s chest, Liam’s hand still in his. Liam immediately scrambles back up the bed to kiss him, still stroking him through his orgasm. The kisses are gentler now, less desperate and sweeter, and Zayn relaxes into it, letting Liam blanket his body with his own, mumbling things too low for him to hear into the crook of his neck.

After a few moments, Liam lifts his head, grinning wickedly. “My turn?”

Zayn laughs. “Your turn, definitely.”

And this is another thing he’s thought about, wondered about, dreamt about with a hand around himself and another fisted into his sheets at night—Liam spread out on his bed, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut, one hand on Zayn shoulder with his nails digging into his skin as Zayn fumbles with the button on his jeans, helps him out of his jeans and boxers both at the same time, and takes him in hand.

“Wanted you for so long,” Liam gasps, his hand sliding from Zayn’s shoulder to his neck, his fingers playing in the short hair at his nape, his chest heaving as Zayn strokes him firmly and quickly, thumbing at his slit, twisting his wrist just so.

“Yeah?” Zayn leans in, mouths at one of Liam’s nipples, flicking his tongue across it at the same time that he flicks his wrist particularly right and making Liam groan his name. It’s maybe the hottest thing ever, the way Liam’s lips form around his name, the way he sounds when he gasps it raggedly like it’s the only thing he’s holding onto as he slips closer and closer to the edge.

Liam groans again. “Since I walked in and found you sitting on the kitchen counter smoking,” he says. “So close Zayn, fuck.”

Zayn bites his lip, increases his pace, and then Liam’s coming all over both of them, his whole body going limp, and he just keeps saying Zayn’s name. Once he’s come down, he wraps both arms around Zayn, hooks a leg over his waist, clinging like a koala and nuzzling his face into Zayn’s shoulder. “That was . . . you were . . . wow.”

"Wow,” Zayn agrees weakly, stretching an arm around Liam’s shoulders, and pressing his face into his roommate’s hair. He’s wanted this for months, but where are they supposed to go from here?

“We should do that again,” Liam suggests softly, his voice scratchy. “Still want you to fuck me.”

Zayn trails a hand down Liam’s jaw, traces his full lips, and leans in to kiss him, still unsure Liam will even want that, now that they’ve fucked out whatever it is between them. But Liam smiles into the kiss and kisses back softly, gently, sweetly. “I’ve wanted to do that forever, too,” he confesses.

“For real?” Zayn pulls back to look at him, and Liam is grinning unabashedly up at him, spent but happy, tracing Zayn’s spine with a finger.

“For real,” Liam confirms. “But until the other day I didn’t think it was a thing I could have.”

Absurdly, after the way they’ve just been all over each other, Zayn blushes. “You mean . . .”

"When I came back to get my keys and caught you saying my name while getting off, yeah,” Liam laughs, stealing another kiss from Zayn’s slightly parted lips.

Zayn shrugs and dips down to drop a kiss on Liam’s nose. “Well, now you know,” he whispers. “I’m definitely a thing you can have.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, loves! you can find me on tumblr at brunettenialls :)


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